


Motivators

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chores, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They used to be messy. Now they've got a system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motivators

The system works really well. Pete can’t remember which one of them thought it up first, they were all drunk at the time. But they all remembered in the next morning, thanks to a scribble of an explanation on a pizza box. Pete went for the last slice of cold pineapple for breakfast, saw the scrawl and brought the idea up again.

What it boils down to is a chore chart. There are a dozen things that need to be done in the house they’re renting. Wash the dishes, dry them, make dinner, vacuum, gather the empty bottles of beer, the list is endless. Which was a problem the first month, as everything stacked up until putting garbage in the bin became a game of where exactly to put the piece of trash so it wouldn’t make the whole heap slide to a disgusting mess on the linoleum, and drinks were bought at Sev because it was easier than washing a glass. Pete has the best time with Mikey and Gabe, but there’s no questioning that neither has the motivation to clean. To be fair, neither does he.

But now, each time they do something clean, they write the date and the action on a list taped to the fridge. Preferably with photographic proof, pictures on cellphones have provided many an end to an argument. Every Sunday they do a tally, see did the most chores that week. And then it’s time for the prize.

Pete likes winning. He likes it more than he hates scrubbing the blue chunks of toothpaste off the sink, which says a lot about how much he likes winning. Gabe likes winning, you can tell because he vacuums at least twice each week. And Mikey takes the garbage out almost every time it fills -they’ve switched to reusing plastic Super One bags, because they’re a quarter of the size of a lawn bag and need to be taken out more often, thus giving more opportunities for points- unless one of them beat him to it. Their rental has gone from filthy to Martha Stewart, and it’s all thanks to NGB.

NGB stands for Not Gay Blowjobs. Basically, whoever wins gets to pick one of the losers and demand a blowjob. They’re non-transferable, and they need to occur within 12 hours of first declaration of winner. Pete likes winning.

Saturday night he sees that Mikey is slightly in the lead. Pete doesn’t approve of this, so he waits until they’re both sleeping -which, thanks to Gabe’s internet habits and Mikey’s insomnia is about six am- and gets out the Mr Clean so he can scrub the kitchen floor. It’s not too noticeable on the linoleum, or at least it isn’t in the moonlight he’s scrubbing in -if he turns on the light it will shine under Mikey’s doorway and he doesn’t want to fuck him over like that- but it still counts. The bucket of soapy water is pretty grey and grimy, proving that the floor was dirty even if it wasn’t visible. Pete’s able to take a picture with his phone, the flash only lights up the room for a split second.

Sunday morning they do their tally. If by morning one means two in the afternoon, twenty minutes before Gabe has to rush off to his shift at Pizza Hut. Pete squeaks into first place, the dawn scrubbing making all the difference. They crumple their lists and put them into the tiny trash bag. Gabe hops into the shower, Mikey disappears into his room, and Pete sprawls out on the couch. He’s got a choice to make.

While he loves winning, sometimes it sucks. Pete’s not exactly known as a good decision maker, which is why his best friend Patrick ends up making nearly all of them, and is number 2 for speed-dial, after poison control. But this is the sort of thing he can’t pawn off on Patrick. Pete does what he always does when he has to decide something without help. He goes through the six W’s of the situation to weigh out the better.

Who is obvious, it’s him and Gabe or him and Mikey. Why is just as obvious, he won this week. When is a bit trickier. It has to be in the next twelve hours, to prevent hoarding. But that’s seven hundred and twenty minutes, and each one of those is affected by the mercurial moods of his housemates. He needs to judge the proper time or Mikey/Gabe won’t be happy, and if they’re not, he’s not. Making people miserable is not the point of NGB’s.

Where doesn’t really matter. Yes, they’ve got a three room apartment and all the rooms have locks. But they don’t really do privacy. Pete can’t remember the last time any of them closed their bedroom door while jerking off. He can’t remember the last time he took his change of clothes into the bathroom with him instead of walking across the apartment wet and naked to get his clothes afterward. He can just as easily claim his blowjob in the living room as in his bedroom.

It’s the what and the how that are the key components making this a hard decision. What kind of blowjob, how it’s given, in this case the last two 6w’s are the same question. Mikey has a different technique than Gabe, and both are good in their own way. Great, really, calling either style of blowjob good is doing it a disservice. Mikey’s able to almost completely deep throat, none of the stroke the base while licking the head crap. But he does it methodically, like all that matters is the person receiving is going to get off hard and soon. If Pete's in the wrong mood it can kill his erection. Gabe isn't as good technically but for the few minutes he’s doing it he can pretend he cares really believably.

So what it comes down to is does he want a master blow by someone who’s completely indifferent, or does he want a merely capable one from someone that seems like he enjoys it? Pete rolls his eyes at himself when he realises his answer is ‘both’. This is why Patrick is the brains of his operation.

Pete waits until Gabe gets home from work and coaxes Mikey into oldschool Starcraft before he approaches. He looks at them side by side on the couch with their laptops, both morally opposed to cheating by glancing at each other’s screens. From what Pete can tell, Mikey’s Terrans are kicking Gabe’s Protoss ass, but then Protoss are always slow to develop. He doesn’t really like either, the few times he’s been roped into it he always goes with Zerg.

“Can you pause that for a second?” they do and put their laptops on the floor in front of them. Pete swallows and decides it’s time to wow them with his brilliant idea. He’s not exactly ready to say it, but it’s after one am, his time is almost up. If he waits much longer he forfeits this week. So he forces himself on, promising to do all the chores next week if this week they’ll doubleteam him.

For a second he thinks he’s ruined everything as Mikey stands without a word and retreats into his bedroom. He comes out with a piece of paper. Mikey snorts as he explains that it’s a list of all the things Pete’s ever promised, and points out a few of the more golden ones, like when he promised to make French toast for them every morning for breakfast, or promising to paint his room, every wall a different colour, fuck the landlord. The paper itself seems to mock him.

“Would a pinky swear help?” he asks desperately. He really wants this, and he doesn’t feel stupid for trying to seal the deal with second grade ideas. If they say no, he’s just going to end up Eeny Meeny Miny Mo’ing it anyway.

“Fuck it. Fine. I’m not cleaning shit all next week. Neither is Mikey. You do it or it’s not done. And next Sunday we’ll rock paper scissors for it, and after that it goes back to normal.”

“Deal!” Pete carefully picks his way through the laptops and power cords and collapses onto the empty cushion of the couch. He arches his hips so he can tug down his pajama pants and it only take a moment of thinking of his boys before he gets hard.

Mikey’s on his knees first, swallowing him whole. It’s fucking amazing, as always, as long as he doesn’t look into Mikey’s dead eyes. Pete whimpers and then bites his lip so more of the same pathetic noise doesn’t come out. He stays silent until Gabe pipes up “I don't know what you want me to do. I mean it's not like you grew another dick, man.”

“Just take turns.” He wants both their mouths. He could sit around forever just watching their mouths. Not even blowing him, or what he imagines they look like eating out girls. Pete’s just as content to watch them munch on toast, or stretch their mouths wide to get a bite of veggieburger from Mikey’s favourite diner, or lips smashed against the unforgiving flesh of an apple. The way Gabe’s lips open wide as he sings, the way Mikey’s purse tight when he can’t make the jump on Mario World two and he’s already lost two lives.

Mikey pulls off and Gabe’s there, mouth hot and wanting. His fingers play piano on the top of Pete’s dick as he licks the bottom. He looks at both of them and he’s as happy as he is turned on. Maybe even more the former than the latter. At these moments he can admit to himself that it’s just as much them as the blowjob, but he’ll never say it out loud. That truth will shave the NG off the NGB, and if Mikey and Gabe can’t deal with it... Well, he’d rather not ruin a good thing by talking about it.


End file.
